


Fall to Pieces

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-15
Updated: 2006-02-10
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Stopping at Woody's for a drink after a bad day, Justin overhears something he never expected to. What does it mean and where could it lead?





	1. Words.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Okay. So I've seen seasons 1, 3 and 4. I'm sure I'm off about a lot of things but bear with me, huh? Oh and I'm not so sure about the title... It might change but for now, I like it. If anyone wants to beta, that'd be awesome - just tell me how! (And credits to whomever originally found the pictures. If I'm not supposed to post those, please let me know!!)  


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[](http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c370/CowardlyShep/Brian%20and%20Justin/set31gp.jpg)

**1\. Words.**  
Walking through Woody’s doors with a sigh, Justin tossed himself down at the counter and ordered a beer. He sipped it slowly and let the smoke and murmur of general conversation sink into him like therapy. It had been one hell of a day and having only Daphne to go home to, while comforting, was hardly what he really wanted. With a shake to rid himself of the thoughts he was running from, he heard Brian mentioned in a conversation next to him, and settled down to eavesdrop.

“-Notorious for not saying anything when he gets off, I swear to God.”

“Come on,” came the scoff. “You can’t control it. Everybody’s said something at orgasm that they didn’t realize. Everybody. Kinney’s not the exception. Especially considering the number he’s had…” he added thoughtfully.

“Fine.” He sounded put out but leant closer. “But last year, he was silent as a grave; just gasped without saying a word.”

Sipping his drink, Justin contemplated his beer silently. Brian had never really been one for yelling but he wasn’t nearly as quiet as they seemed to think he was. Shuddering softly at the memory and trying to ignore the accompanying flush, Justin couldn’t help but recall the countless times Brian had come while gasping unintelligible things in his ear. Only now he couldn’t remember if the man had ever been vocal while in the backroom. It hadn’t been _that_ long since he’d been with Brian – less than two months even if you counted while he’d been with Ethan too – and he couldn’t seriously consider that the man could change so drastically in such a short time.

He tuned back into the conversation and tried to forget the sensation of Brian sliding into him in his memory before he either came in his jeans or passed out from lack of oxygen to his brain.

“Listen,” the gossiper continued, “I heard it from Aaron, who heard it from Kevin, who knows Brandon who he fucked last night. I heard that the great Brian Kinney actually said a name. Brandon said it almost sounded like it was being ripped out of him, the way his breath hitched and everything. He figured it was just a natural hitch, right? But Brian wouldn’t look at him afterwards. Not like he ever does…”

There was a pause and they both muttered “Asshole” before laughing.

“Anyway, Brandon turned quick, surprised, right? And he swears that the great Kinney actually had tears in his eyes. Fucking _tears_ , can you believe it? I thought he was a heartless bastard, but I guess this proves me wrong.”

“Wow.” A low whistle of surprise and a silence all the more oppressive for the sounds of Woody’s that had never stopped. “Whose name was it?”

“What?”

A body leant closer and Justin fought not to incline himself to listen better. “I said, whose name did the great Kinney spit out in his throes of orgasm? Who’s the lucky stiff?” he chuckled.

The man looked furtively around the bar and Justin tried to seem like he wasn’t really listening, while in fact his breath was caught and he felt like he was on the edge of something very steep and potentially dangerous.

“Apparently when Brandon had his mouth on that delicious dick-“ 

He broke off and Justin could almost hear them salivating. He shook his head to himself and ordered another beer. By the time it had arrived, the conversation next to him was continuing.

“-He says that Brian sort of sighed out, ‘sunshine’, or something like that.”

Justin’s heart skipped painfully before grinding to a halt.

“Then their eyes met but Kinney scowled, pulled Brandon up and threw him against to wall really roughly. The next thing our little boy knew, he was in him, pumping away for all he was worth. And a while later, it happened – the Stud of Liberty Avenue finally slipped. He said…” He paused for effect and laughed when his friend began to queen out.

“Tell me!” the man whined. “I can’t take the suspense! C’mon, it’s got to be all over Liberty by now, just tell me already!”

“Okay, okay. Kinney came and said, ‘Justin’. You happy now?”

“Very,” came the smug reply.

Justin felt faint. The room was spinning around him, things were getting dim. He was certain he would wake up any instant.

“There’s more.”

He almost wanted to call out for them to stop. He wasn’t sure he could take much more, wasn’t sure it was entirely right to sit here listening to them talking about this. Normally he would have taken no notice, but this wasn’t the normal bragging and comparing of fucks. No, this was something that Brian would never have admitted to, much less announced to the bar on a crowded Friday night.

“There is?” the voice was hopeful but Justin just swallowed his beer and stood up, signalling to the bartender. He couldn’t stay and listen to more; he couldn’t stand hearing what he was missing any more than he could handle missing it.

“Yeah.” His voice was low but it still carried to Justin’s ears as he frantically pulled cash out of his pocket, trying to flee the words he was fearing without knowing what they’d be. “When he’s with blonds, which is all he really goes for now…”

Against his will, Justin stood stock still and waited.

“He tells them he loves them.”

His shoulders slumped and he thought he might collapse to the floor right then and there. He wondered just how far gone the Stud of Liberty had to be before his tongue ran away with his heart. Trying to push down the anger that flared in him was useless and it coated his veins in a dull burn - Brian was telling complete strangers what he couldn’t say to Justin. He sighed and headed for the exit, knowing he couldn’t listen to any more. He didn’t notice when a tall, slender brunet slipped out after him, not even flinching when the cold that bit into bare, vulnerable flesh.

“Justin!” the brunet called, trying not to hear the desperation in his own voice. He told himself that he wasn’t distraught, that he wasn’t this-close to breaking down and begging the blond to come back, to fill up the hole in his life that nothing seemed to hide.

“ _What?!_ ” the blond screamed, whipping back to face him so that Brian could easily see the harsh emotions marring that beautiful face.

“I-“

He stopped. What _had_ he been intending? He’d been just as startled by those two yappers at the bar as Justin, just as caught off guard by their whispered confessions. Sure, he’d had a feeling in his gut lately that something was amiss, but had been merely fostering it off as indigestion and not something nearer to the heart lingering vainly in his chest.

“I just…”

At the sight of the naked frustration, agitation and pain in his lover’s face – he still couldn’t bring himself to say ‘ex’, given how long it had taken to ever call him lover – he just wanted to take him in his arms and whisk him away from it all. But that was no longer his duty. He tried to harden himself, knowing that Ethan was the one now who would help Justin through what hurt him. He tried to force on the mask he knew so well, but it faltered and slipped, leaving him naked and vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” was all he was able to manage as his shoulders fell. Turning without a backward glance before Justin could stutter a response, he retreated, _fled_ back to his car. He tried to stop the words between his gasping breaths as his chest fluttered painfully but they lit like neon inside his brain, “I mean every word.”

Without looking back, he stumbled against the side of the corvette and wiped angrily at his wet cheeks, telling himself it was only the cold stinging his eyes. This was not the place that he wanted to relive these things. Only in the safety of the loft did he let himself feel what he was missing. And even then there were walls that he was able to maintain, some barrier against the overwhelming silence, that he clung to. But each time his foundation weakened and he could feel that this time everything would topple. He was going to be buried under the rubble of his own walls tonight and all he wanted was to be back in his home, in his fortress when it happened. He couldn’t let it happen out here, out where anyone could see.

Holding himself upright through force of will, he practically fell into the driver’s seat and begged the engine to roar to life. It whimpered but finally turned over and he swore he had never been so grateful to a piece of metal in his life. Pulling out of the alley, he was surprised to see Justin standing motionless where he had been moments before. Against his better judgment, Brian stopped and lowered his window.

“Go home, Justin,” he sneered, silently congratulating himself on how much he sounded like the asshole they all took him for. “I bet your little fiddler is worried.”

“Fuck you,” was the spat response, but at least it was better than standing in the snow without any reaction whatsoever.

“You wish,” was the brunet’s easy retort, tongue firmly in cheek. “Besides, you have your own _boyfriend_ to fuck.” A little piece of his heart chipped off, landing with a crash in his hollow chest at the desolation that had replaced the sparkle in the sky blue eyes he now looked into.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Justin snarled and Brian was momentarily startled by the venom.

“Could’ve fooled me,” came the soft reply. Brian, emotionless Stud of Liberty Ave struggled to keep the hurt from his tone but he must have failed because flickering cobalt eyes suddenly snapped up to meet his and he had to look away. It felt like they could see clear through to the walls that were falling down around him. “I’ve got to go,” he mumbled, reaching to draw up the window like a glass barrier to hold inside his pieces when he flew apart.

“Brian-“

Against his will, his head whipped up and his hand pulled away from the window. His eyes fluttered across the smooth skin he longed to touch, before settling on red lips instead of piercing eyes. He had a feeling this would be hard enough without letting Justin in closer by meeting his gaze.

“What?”

The blond hesitated then took a deep breath. He knew this night couldn’t end worse than it was this second. Well, no, that wasn’t true, it _could_ end worse, but he had this little feeling that it wouldn’t. Gathering his courage like a cape, he took a step closer.

“I miss you.”

Brian sucked in a startled breath – he hadn’t expected that and it left him feeling off balance and that had him scared.

“Doesn’t Ian fuck you into the mattress, Sunshine?” he smirked as the other man stared at him in surprise.

“Fuck!” Justin cried in frustration.

He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. He’d known that the brunet wouldn’t just take the comment for what it was but he hadn’t expected such a response. A part of him knew that it meant that he was dangerously close to Brian’s own feelings and he was reacting like a cornered animal, lashing out and trying to defend himself. But most of him was just startled that Brian could be so brutal; absence apparently had softened the edges of his memories, the way it usually did.

“No, he doesn’t,” Justin replied before he was even aware his lips were moving. “We broke up. He cheated.”

“It’s a harsh truth, Sunshine,” came the soft rejoinder but Justin knew not to relax just because the tone seemed gentle, there was a strong hint of steel and pain behind it all. “But you had to learn it sometime. Everybody does.”

He looked slowly at the brunet and was shocked to see the sadness lining such beautiful features. Brian gave him a weak, stunted smile and shrugged one shoulder before pulling away from the curb. Staring after him, Justin realised he hadn’t even corrected his ex-boyfriend’s name from his ex-lover’s lips. He sighed; it was time to go home to his best friend. Vaguely he wondered who Brian was going home to, but knew that there probably wasn’t anyone waiting at the loft. He sighed again but tried to remember that it wasn’t up to him anymore. Brian was no longer his problem, no matter how enraging the man remained.


	2. Masks.

[](http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c370/CowardlyShep/Brian%20and%20Justin/loft1021.jpg)

**2\. Masks.**  
He sighed softly, kicking his feet on the sidewalk and feeling vaguely discomforted as a vision of Brian’s face flashed before his own. Those dark hazel eyes had seemed so bottomless tonight, so empty. Shaking himself, he headed towards the diner, unable to face an empty bed right then.

He was just about to get out of the booth half an hour later, when his cell rang. Without looking at the display he answered with a sigh, “I said I was _fine_ , Daph.” 

There was silence and Justin frowned, confused. He was about to look at the number, thinking it wasn’t his friend, when he heard a hitched breath and the call cut out.

“What the fu-“ he muttered, finally looking at the caller ID and having to scroll through the phone to look at it again. _Brian_? What the fuck was Brian doing calling him? Shaking his head and grabbing his coat, he threw money down on the table and headed out, hoping that the cold air would help clear his head. It felt like cotton bunnies had taken up residence within his skull and it was getting crowded in there.

As he walked quickly to quiet his mind, anticipation began crawling beneath his skin, making him jump whenever a car passed in his periphery. Muttering to himself that he must be crazy, he ducked his head down into his coat and kept walking, not realizing where he was headed until the familiar building loomed in front of him. He took a step forward before he could stop himself.

“I really am crazy,” he sighed, craning his head to see if the light was still on in the loft. He saw only a dark pane of glass but the curtain flickered and Justin instinctively knew he had been spotted. He hesitated and then, without letting himself think about why, pressed the buzzer to be let up. Seconds passed and he had just turned away, cursing himself for being so utterly stupid, when the response came and the door opened. “Shit,” he muttered, startled into action before thinking.

As the elevator rose slowly, he managed to convince himself that this was all truly a dream. He must have passed out in Woody’s. Hell, maybe he was still with Ethan. Anything. Because he sure as hell wasn’t actually opening the gate and stepping out into the hallway, being faced with the tall, hulking metal of the loft door. No, he definitely wasn’t.

He was so convinced that when he realised that the door was partially open, it didn’t seem like that much of a surprise. He just stepped through onto the hardwood he knew like its grain was permanently engrained in his skin and looked around for Brian. Not seeing him at first, he moved farther in, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Brian?” he called, feeling strangely ill at ease with the shadows that swam through the air like demons. Something was hanging thickly all through the loft but he couldn’t identify it and didn’t really want to try.

Silence answered him until… “Why are you here, Justin?”

The voice was tired and hollow, the shoulders, when he spotted them at the island, hunched and loose. He would have expected Brian to be tense, like he had been earlier that night. He hadn’t anticipated the bone-deep listlessness that seemed to have taken over the man as he stood and emptied the Beam bottle clutched in his fist. Hard hazel eyes met Justin’s and his mouth went dry. He wanted to talk, to explain to Brian why he was there, that he missed him, wanted him back. But he couldn’t. _He_ wasn’t sure why he was really there. Not if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t know,” was all he was able to breathe.

Brian nodded like it made sense and grabbed for another bottle – vodka this time - while simultaneously taking a hit from the roach burning in the ashtray. He hissed softly under his breath as the alcohol burned down his throat but swallowed dutifully until he heard Justin take another step closer. Taking the bottle from his lips and turning with a raised eyebrow towards the younger man, he waited for him to speak.

“Are you sure mixing is a good idea, Brian?” came the soft murmur and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Justin knew it was useless. If Brian wanted to get well and truly wasted, there was no way he would be able to stop him. He hadn’t been able to keep the man in some semblance of line when they had been together, what made him think he could do it now?

“It’s a very good idea,” came the slurred reply as he stumbled back towards his stool. In a flash Justin was at his side, a hand on his arm to steady him and an arm just barely around his waist. He wanted to sink into those arms but fought the urge with every scrap of the man he was, that he still clung to.

“You’re drunk,” Justin admonished, surprised because it couldn’t have been more than 45 minutes since he’d last seen the man and he seemed well beyond wasted already.

“Not nearly drunk enough,” Brian replied stiffly, straightening his spine and stepping away from the blond. He walked, completely steady on his feet, towards the window and leant his head against it. “Why are you here?” he asked again, unable to keep the exhaustion from his voice.

“You should lie down,” the other man suggested gently, hesitantly stepping towards the brunet. Even though his mind was screaming at him to get out of there, something in his heart told him to stay.

“I don’t want to lie down,” came the indolent reply. He took another large gulp of the vodka and grimaced when it slithered drown his throat like fire.

“Brian-“ A hand touched his arm and he jerked away like it burned. In truth, it did. It cut right through his defences and pushed at the teetering wall he was clinging to like it was his salvation. He needed that barrier, that defence against what he knew was true. He couldn’t face it. Couldn’t handle it. His plan had been to get quietly drunk off his ass so that he could break down and blame it on the alcohol. He certainly couldn’t do that with Justin in his loft.

“Don’t touch me, Sunshine,” he sneered, stumbling away from the other man. He took another long drink and shut his eyes tightly when things began spinning. Worse yet, when he opened them again, things were glimmering wetly. He blinked to clear them but only felt the tears spill over onto his cheeks. Making sure his back was to Justin, he drew in a quick breath and looked out onto the city. “Why are you here?”

The shorter blond stepped up beside him but was careful not to touch him. “Why did you let me up?”

“Because I’m drunk,” he replied, forcing a laugh through lips that were entirely too sober. A second before it had been a good buzz, a good start to end a bad day, but now it was all seeping away from him. He was losing his oblivion and had only one young blond bombshell to blame for it.

“You called me,” Justin stated and he swore under his breath. He’d known keeping his cell on was a bad idea; he’d had a feeling that he would do something stupid if those numbers were within reach but hadn’t remembered to turn it off until the first bottle was already coursing through his system. It’s not like the number wasn’t burned into his brain anyway.

“So? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” He tried desperately to cling to the last vestiges of his stupor, acting much drunker than he was so he had something to blame it all on, but it was slipping away faster and faster with every second. Looking mournfully down at the half-empty bottle, he knew it wasn’t enough, would never be enough to help him forget for a lifetime. The only thing he wanted was to be able to put the man beside him out of his mind forever. He didn’t want to want him and he certainly didn’t want to need him. The last thing he needed was to love someone who didn’t want him. Because he did love him, and what pissed Brian off the most was that it had taken losing him to realise it.

“I miss you,” Justin whispered, his warm breath heavy on Brian’s bare shoulder.

Brian tried to keep himself upright but the feel, the smell of Justin so close but unreachable was driving him crazy. He just wanted him to stop talking, stop saying things that made Brian want to hold him, to keep him there, trapped in the loft, until the sun came up again.

“No you don’t,” he sighed, bringing the useless alcohol to his lips once more. Nothing could make this less real, he knew, not even the vodka that beat in his veins. He was too sober by far, to face the thoughts within his head. He was within inches and seconds of breaking down, and there was only his own weakness to blame. No amount of alcohol could be causing this.

He had managed to fight down sudden nausea, taking another burning gulp of oblivion but then Justin’s hand was on his wrist, staying another drink, burning his flesh and branding him. The slight pressure of fingertips lingered like agony and Brian was sure he would wake up in the morning with bruises, if he woke up at all. He slammed his eyes shut as Justin took the bottle from him but slid his hand so their palms rested against each other, fingers twined together. He tried to hold the whimper inside his chest but it bubbled out of him and he gasped, scrubbing at his face and trying desperately to keep it together. The gentle pressure of Justin’s hand was too much. It was all just too much.

“Shhh,” Justin was saying, his arms folding tightly around Brian’s collapsing body as everything fell down around him. Long, artistic fingers tangled in ragged brunet locks as Brian buried his face in the chest long denied him.

“You left me,” he moaned, fingers clutching Justin’s shirt tightly, like he was afraid to let go. He was.

“I know, Bri,” the blond murmured softly, “And I’m sorry. But I had to.” He tilted Brian’s face backwards and saw the broken mask. “You know that, don’t you? I had to go.”

Brian nodded weakly, hollow hazel meeting blue before he shut them with a whimper and buried himself more closely in Justin’s embrace. “M’ssed yo’,” he sighed, planting sloppy kisses on Justin’s clothed chest, “L’ve you.” Curling around the younger man, he tried to convince himself it was all just some realistic dream as he slipped into oblivion, knowing that it could never be real.


	3. Scars.

  
Author's notes: This is a pretty short one. I'm not sure I like it, but it is how it is.  


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[](http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c370/CowardlyShep/Brian%20and%20Justin/xs30.jpg)

**3\. Scars.**  
Light was pulsing behind his eyelids like a disco beat, intent on pounding its way into his skull. Groaning, Brian rolled over to grab the other pillow and smother himself with it. He froze when his hand struck warm, breathing flesh. His eyes cracked open as his mouth went dry. His mind was stuck, unable to make sense of any of this. He _knew_ he had left Woody’s alone. He _knew_ that he wouldn’t have called a hustler, not when he was as shaky as he’d felt last night. No, he would have wanted to be alone. So where did that leave him? _Who_ did that leave him?

One name leapt unbidden to his lips but he tried to clamp down on it. Too often he’d whispered it, begged for it, but always been denied like someone ripping out his heart. No, he refused to give in to the ache within his chest, to prostrate himself like some lovesick lesbian before the man he loved who he knew couldn’t possibly be the one in his bed.

“Justin?” he practically whimpered, the name slipping out when he opened his mouth to breathe. The second it was off his tongue he wanted to strangle himself. He sounded so goddamn pathetic and he hated that feeling, hated it almost as much as he hated knowing that it couldn’t possibly be true. He had fucked up, royally and truly and there was NO way that his Justin was here. No, his lover was gone and he was alone. He was alone and _no one_ knew how much it killed him to face that every morning and every night.

Cursing himself for his weakness and praying that the other body in the bed hadn’t heard him, he rolled over and struggled to sit up. Moaning and grabbing his head when it began to spin dizzily, he braced himself to wait it out. He relaxed minutely when a gentle hand began rubbing his back, kneading the tense muscles and easing the tango troupe within his skull. Slumping faintly, he was about to murmur his thanks when he realised how fucking _familiar_ that skin against his was, those fingers on his back. He stiffened immediately and bit his bottom lip. Unable and perhaps unwilling to tear himself from his delusions when he felt so god-awful already, Brian kept his head turned away from the bed and the man his mind was trying to convince him was his lost lover. He stalked quickly into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Faced with the haggard reflection in the mirror, he grimaced and felt anger lancing through him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel. He wasn’t supposed to feel at all.

“FUCK!” he screamed, slamming his palm against the mirror and making it rattle dangerously against the wall. Biting his lip against a strangled moan, he was turning to step into the shower when the bathroom door creaked open.

“Brian?” came the gentle call and his heart almost stopped in an empty chest.

Eyes wide and vulnerable, he turned slowly. He fought to keep facing away, unable to confront once more his failure to keep the one man who meant anything at all. He was trying to stall for time to bring back up the mask he hid behind but it was useless. He was turning towards the truth before he could stop himself.

“Are you all right?” the blond demanded, brow creased with concern.

“Fu-ck,” Brian exhaled shakily, running trembling fingers through his hair as he realised that it really was Justin standing across from him, dressed in boxer briefs and a faint haze of sleep. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, crossing an arm over his bare chest unconsciously; he’d never felt more exposed in his life.

“Do you remember last night?” the younger man asked him, his voice soft but still piercing through the drums in Brian’s skull. He shook his head; it was all a jumble of hazy flashes but he had a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. He felt too open right then, like he’d been laid bare and hadn’t even begun to scrape himself together.

“What’d I do?” he sneered. Or, tried to. In reality he was shocked to hear how much his voice sounded like a plea. Yeah right, Brian fucking Kinney does not _plead_. Not even with blond lovers that he missed more than anything. Not even when he wanted to. Not even when he tried. Stopping, he realised it wasn’t pride keeping him quiet - it was fear. Fear that if he opened long-sealed wounds, if he let his heart speak, it would still be spat on, like it had so many times before. And that was something he knew he wouldn’t be able to take; memories of the Rage party were hard enough to face. This was his own fault – as everyone took such delight in reminding him - and nothing he did could fix it.

“You really don’t remember?” Justin tilted his head owlishly, stepping cautiously closer. He stopped immediately when Brian jerked away from him, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself, like he was trying to hide. Standing safely across the room, the blond spread his arms to show that he was harmless and said quietly, “You called me, Brian. I got here and you were drunk. I mean, _really_ drunk. You- I mean, I- well, that is…” He sighed and shook his head softly, eyes flickering over the brunet’s hunched body. He had never seen him look even remotely self-conscious; the range of Brian’s reactions were throwing him off balance. His mouth opened but he paused and it snapped shut. “I’ll go. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Justin, I-“

Justin shook his head and backed up. His face was impassive as he met Brian’s gaze. “I know you were really drunk. I’ll… I’ll see you around, Brian.” He turned, hightailing to the door.

Brian was motionless for a heartbeat before a cry was ripped from his throat. “NO.” Then he was moving, running after Justin like he hadn’t been able to make himself before. “Justin, please. Stop.” 

But he was too late. The loft door was open and the room was empty. A shudder crept up Brian’s spine and a sob caught in his throat before he could stop it.

“No,” he plead, wishing for the power to take it all back. To make it all different. To make himself different.

 

Taking in a deep breath of harsh winter air in the Pitts, Justin tried to clear his head, tried to ignore the words he’d imagined shouted after him. No, he reminded himself, Brian _fucking_ Kinney does not run after anyone, least of all blond twinks who just don’t know when to quit. Scowling to himself, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and tried to forget how open, how goddamn scared Brian had looked when Justin had opened the bathroom door. He’d never seen the brunet so skittish, so vulnerable and it made his heart ache to think that he was the cause; that he had so hurt his lover – he tried to make himself say ‘ex’, even in his head, but it was hard to remember to, even harder to want to. The problem was that they had hurt each other. Too many times. Squeezing his eyes shut, Justin fought to get a hold of himself, wondering why he always put himself through the agony that was loving and wanting Brian Kinney. He had finally heard the words he’d longed for from the brunet’s lips but they’d only been ripped out by copious amounts of alcohol and never more apparent exhaustion. He wondered if the man meant any of it at all.

With another shake of his shoulders, he flipped open his cell phone. “Daph?” he queried when she answered. “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night. I- well, yeah, he was hot. But, I mean, no. Daph, just…” Letting out his breath violently, he admitted in a rush, “It was Brian.”

All he heard was silence for a long moment, and then, “You fucked Brian?”

“No!” he gasped in surprise, half startled that the thought hadn’t even occurred to him and half surprised that that didn’t seem to phase him much. “Daph, you should have seen him. I mean, he just looked so… so lost. Like he was breaking apart but trying desperately not to. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“I have,” she murmured, voice soft like she was hesitant. His stomach dropped; Justin had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.

“When Daph?” he demanded, unable to stop himself.

“Prom.”

He drew in a frantic breath, shadows turning darker in his periphery. Forcing his body to exhale slowly and evenly, he reminded himself that there was no one there; he was safe. Turning back to the phone, he quickly assured his best friend that he was all right.

“I mean it, Justin,” she said quietly, having been reassured and told he was waiting for her to continue. “When you two were dancing… it was the most beautiful thing. He looked so happy, like he was finally letting himself just live in the moment. Like he was finally letting something go, something he’d held onto for a long time, and it was okay to let it go.” She was quiet for a moment and Justin slowly lowered himself to a nearby bench. “But then after… After, Brian was clinging to you and I-“ her voice broke, “He looked pretty fucking lost then, Justin. It was like everything had been ripped out of him, like a part of _him_ was bleeding on the pavement.”

Justin didn’t reply, just let the words sail past him. There was still such a black hole in his memory, such a loss. It was as if it had happened to someone else, a million years ago. He lived with the effects and the nightmares but not the memories. No, those he had escaped. Glancing up at the loft’s window, he saw the curtain rustle faintly and knew that those memories, the ones he was missing, still existed in the world, still haunted like a living nightmare that could never be expressed. Faintly he wondered if it was the guilt of those, of having and not having that had driven a wedge in the midst of their ‘relationship’, such as it was.

“Justin? Justin, talk to me!”

Shaking himself, he turned back to the phone and his rapidly-becoming-frantic best friend. “I’m okay, Daph, I just spaced out there for a minute.”

“You coming home?” she asked quietly and, only looking at the loft’s window once more, he agreed. “I’ll make pancakes,” she said, “just don’t take too long.”

“Okay Daph, I’ll see you.” He hung up and turned away from the building and what it now represented, something hollow, something used, something broken. If he was being true to himself, he saw a little hope there, but it was drowning under self-doubt and fear. And if there was one thing he had figured out about Brian Kinney, it was that fear probably made his dick soft. He wouldn’t tolerate it in others and there was no way in hell he would tolerate it in himself. Smiling sadly, Justin walked away, unable to keep from wondering if, beneath that fear, there was still something, some part of the man he loved, who he thought might love him in return, who could only admit when drunk and maybe lonely.


	4. Illusions.

  
Author's notes: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for your reviews. I'm really glad that you're enjoying it! This chapter is radically different from the way it was yesterday (major editing) but I hope that it reads better now. :) Enjoy! (And yes, I know you might be confused about the picture but it was the clearest one I could find and I thought that it sort of fit the chapter, regardless)  


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[](http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c370/CowardlyShep/Brian%20and%20Justin/brijustem022.jpg)

**4\. Illusions.**  
He felt like shit on a cracker. His muscles were trembling and weak, making the slightest effort like scaling a mountain. The heart in his chest was the weakest muscle in his body; his emotions felt so near to the surface, so vulnerable that it scared him, and that made him angry. He was coming apart at the seams but couldn’t seem to pull himself back together. He raged against his memories because the instant they touched air, they became something more than shadow; they became real.

And he did remember. Entirely more than he wanted to. Anything, everything and especially last night. At first his mind had been too fuzzy to be of much use but half a dozen cups of coffee later and he was painfully aware of the words that had fallen from a forked tongue. He tried to tell himself that it was just a dream, that he had finally fallen asleep after over 72 hours of consciousness, but there wasn’t really any point and he wasn’t a big fan of lying to himself. No, he had to face the fact that he’d finally told Justin the truth, well, the truth as his half-delirious mind had seen it. He did still blame it on the exhaustion, trying not to think about how he vaguely remembered actually – he shuddered - _crying_ in Justin’s arms. He’d wanted to throw up, when he remembered, but realised that it certainly explained the blonde’s reaction to him that morning. He hadn’t been able to leave the loft quick enough. 

Brian sighed and rolled his eyes at himself. Not that he could really blame the man; it was bad enough he’d used the L word in a sentence but then to break down like a goddamn lesbian in the meantime. He would’ve been embarrassed if it hadn’t ended in the best sleep he’d had in the last three weeks. But he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone, wasn’t going to let on how the bed was entirely too cold and empty now to be conductive to sleep, and he certainly wasn’t going to dissect why. No. He had to get past that because there was no way that Justin would ever come back – not that he wanted the guy back, even if he’d wanted to come; or so he tried to convince himself - especially not after his behaviour the night before. He was just going to have to face up to the fact that he’d fucked up once more. The realisation sat like a rolling ball of hot disappointment in his gut.

He swallowed quickly to force back down his coffee and dialled the phone, readying an excuse on his tongue, on the off chance he needed it, as he waited for his assistant to pick up.

“Cynthia? Clear my schedule for today, I’m not going to make it in.”

“Sure, I’ll push your meetings to Monday. Are you all right, Brian? You sound exhausted.” Cynthia frowned in concern; he could be a right asshole, but there wasn’t anyone in Ryder’s firm that she would rather work for – and that went for half the staff on any given day.

“I feel like shit,” he admitted, drawing in another breath and turning quickly away from the window when a familiarly beautiful blond turned towards his building.

“Well, take a long weekend,” she was saying when he started listening again. “You’ve been killing yourself this past week.”

“Yeah,” he agreed absently, fighting sudden nausea and the trembling that threatened to split him apart. “Thanks Cyn,” he blurted, shutting of the phone and putting it quickly on the windowsill before hurrying to the sink to lose his liquid stomach. Resting his forehead against the counter and gasping in an effort to stop his head from spinning and pounding simultaneously, Brian groaned in his misery, then growled at himself for being so goddamn pathetic. He started cursing when the loft door creaked open, sending shocks of high-pitched sound piercing into his alcohol-soaked brain.

“Bri?” came the hesitant call and his nerves stretched another inch too far. Mikey. How beautiful. “Brian, are you here?”

“Yeah Mikey,” he replied, trying to hold down another bout of nausea. He straightened quickly and brushed his fingers absently on the towel Justin had left by the sink. He never used it - not on dishes anyway - but couldn’t bring himself to move it.

“Are you okay?” his friend frowned, moving towards him like a puppet on a string.

“I’m fine,” he retorted shortly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Ma says that Kiki told her Justin was at the diner last night around the time you went home and that he left in a hurry, muttering something about you. I just wanted to make sure that you-”

“You wanted to check up on me, how sweet,” Brian sneered, hating for once how quickly gossip on the Liberty queer-vine travelled. He really didn’t have the patience or the emotional stability today to deal with Mikey or any other member of his screwed-up family, most of whom blamed _him_ for what had happened with Justin anyway. Not, he was sure, that they were that far off.

Michael ducked out of the way of his parental pat and he fought a laugh under his breath. His friend was so predictable, it was pathetic.

“Look, Ma wanted me to see if you were coming to the family dinner tonight,” Mikey was saying and Brian fought to follow the conversation. “Nobody’s seen much of you lately, Bri, we miss you.”

Brian snorted and shook his head. “No you don’t. Don’t give me some bullshit line. Your mom misses having me to rag on and everyone else can just fuck off. I’ve been busy with work, if it’s any of your business.”

Michael’s jaw dropped open and the tall, slender brunet took the opportunity to steer him towards the door.

“And since I don’t want you getting in trouble with mama bear,” Brian smirked, “you tell her, in these exact words, that I will bless you all with my presence when I fucking feel like it. Until that time, you can stay the fuck out of my life; it’s mine to fuck-up as I choose. I don’t need anyone else to tell me what I’ve lost or what I stand to lose.”

Maybe they were both startled by Brian’s words, but to Mikey’s credit he didn’t say anything. He just looked his best-friend-since-they-were-fourteen in the eye for an extra long second and nodded, smiling a little sadly.

“Okay Brian, I’ll head off mom. But you can’t hide out forever.”

Brian rolled his eyes and slid the loft door shut, muttering under his breath, “Just watch me.”

 

Shadows were stealing across the skyline when the loft’s door reverberated gently with an intrusion. Sighing, Brian lifted off the couch, paused the movie and headed for the door.

“What?” he growled, startled when he saw a bedecked Emmett standing before him. “What are you doing here, Auntie Em?” His eyes narrowed when he couldn’t think of an immediate reason for the visit.

“Save the nastiness, Brian,” Emmett replied, breezing past the brunet into the large, empty space. “I came because Mikey didn’t make much more sense than usual and I wanted to see how my favourite asshole was doing.”

“Em,” he sighed, scrubbing at his face and wishing that he didn’t have a damn reputation to keep up, a worn mask was harder to maintain than a strong one. He seemed to waver between apathy and anger, but mainly he was just tired. Sick and tired of being an emotionless bastard all the time, of doing and being what they expected of him. It was hard work being heartless. He sighed again and turned away from the man inside his home. “I’m fine, Emmett.” Turning his back, he walked back to the couch and flopped down on it, putting back on the movie. “So thanks for the concern,” he sneered, “but how about you just let yourself out and leave me alone.”

“You’re not fine,” Emmett retorted, sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch by Brian’s feet. “Why can’t you just admit that?”

Taking in a deep breath and cursing emotions still rolling dangerously near the surface, Brian squinted at the flaming brunet.

“Why admit what I can’t change and no one cares to hear?” he responded tiredly, fighting the emotions rising in his chest, that threatened to choke and drown him. “Everyone wants me to be Brian Kinney all the time, immutable, untouchable, unemotional. Nobody cares if anything actually affects me, if anything actually hurts. It’s all about the image, the reputation.”

Not realising, he was up and pacing as the shorter queen watched with wide eyes and a silent tongue.

“No body cares about _me_ , about Brian. Not about who I am. No one even _knows_ who I am and the one person I was trying to show that to, well he… he fucking left. He found someone better, someone less fucked up. So what sort of incentive is that to share the ‘real me’, Emmett? Because I am fucked up. I try to avoid it, to deny it and to hide it, but I am. My parents didn’t want me, Justin doesn’t and anyone now who does, just wants what they think I am. No one wants what I really am. No one wants _me_ , Emmett, can you understand that?” He drew in a breath trembling with anger and emotion. He tried to stop the words falling from his tongue but was powerless to; they spilt out of him like so many useless tears down his cheeks. Emmett didn’t move or speak to break his thoughts, so he fell victim to what he’d been hiding from for so long. “People want what I can give them, an ideal to look up to, someone to blame when shit happens, they want my money or my sperm. I’m fucking _pieces_ , Emmett. I’m not a man, I’m just money, a dick and an asshole. No one notices me or if they do, they never care. All my life people have noticed but never given a shit when shit happens to me. Why? Why am I so worthless, Emmett? What’s wrong with me that makes me so impossible to love?”

He stood with his back to the couch, body trembling with barely contained sadness, self-disgust and disappointment. And above it all, he was once again angry at himself for letting his mask slip. That is, after all, what it was for, to keep his vulnerable insides from being exposed. This was exactly the reason he had stayed like a hermit in the loft all day, why he had shied away from the people who were supposed to know him better than anything, whom he tried to keep in the dark from what was really wrong with him. Because there was something wrong with him. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, but there had to be something.

Holding his breath, he waited for the killing blow, for whatever scathing words he could expect from one Emmett Honeycutt, queen and flame extraordinaire. He only hoped he could hold himself together long enough afterwards for the man to leave him alone in his exile.

Emmett stopped, hesitated really. He knew there was no way he should even _try_ to touch the love issue – then, if ever - even if he’d known where to start. Instead, he just stuck to the little he knew about the man that Brian Kinney was. 

“I know,” he murmured quietly, voice echoing through the silent loft, “that you act like an asshole, but deep down I always thought there was more to you. There has to be and every now and again I see glimpses of it. I’ve seen you give people more than you can afford and certainly more than they deserve; I know that you try to be heartless but it really doesn’t work half the time, not if you really look. What I do know about you, Brian, I respect. And while you may think I’m just some fairy queen from Hazlehurst Mississippi, you’ve got me as a friend if you want. I’m not here to get your money and while I could probably sell your sperm on E-bay, I don’t plan to. If you ever want someone to talk to, I can do that.” He smiled tentatively when Brian glanced at him over his shoulder. “And I promise it’ll just be between us.”

“You couldn’t keep a secret in a locked safe if you didn’t have the code,” Brian snarked weakly and Emmett grinned, almost basking in the feeble sarcasm.

“Oh I know, honey,” he chirped, “but for you? For you I can make an exception.” Brian sighed and Emmett watched him sway where he stood. Taking a step towards him he said, “C’mon, Brian, time to get you to bed.”

“I’m not drunk, Emmett, and I’m certainly not dead,” came the admonishment. “I don’t need someone to fucking baby me.”

“I know that,” Emmett replied, wrinkling his nose and wondering if it might not be better to just call Michael; he was well versed in the Kinney operating manual, he knew how to work him. Emmy was just flying by the seat of his very tight, very bright pants. “But I also know what it’s like to rant it out. I figured if you were going to be tired, then the bed might be a nice place for that.”

Brian shook his head defiantly. “Nope. I want to sit on the couch.”

Emmett looked at him for a long minute and decided not to press the matter. “Fine,” he agreed, slinging Brian’s arm over his shoulders – he was almost surprised by the man’s lack of response or snarky comment - and helping him towards the impeccably white designer sofa. “Comfortable?” he inquired, lightly tossing the throw over long, slender knees and moving to go. He stopped when Brian grabbed his wrist to hold him. “What is it?” he frowned, wondering what else the man could possibly need.

“Thank you,” Brian was whispering, eyes averted, and Emmett almost fainted in shock. He was quite sure he’d never heard Brian thank _anyone_ , not even when they deserved it. “You’re a good man, Emmy-Lou. I don’t think anyone gives you nearly enough credit.” The flaming brunet let out a slow breath, watching Brian’s features crumple before they were hidden behind his hands. His heart went out to the man in obvious pain on the couch.

“Can I get you anything, Bri? Or do you just want me to go?” he asked gently, crouching beside the couch.

“No,” was the muffled response. “Please, could you… could you stay for a while?”

Surprise caught Emmett off guard and he hesitated before he was able to think about responding. Unfortunately Brian took it for a negative.

“Forget I asked,” the hard brunet muttered after a moment, trying to ignore how tight his chest was or how hitched his breath became; trying to shove away the disappointment he couldn’t help but feel, and hating himself for letting himself hope. Pushing off the couch with a slight waver of exhaustion, he slunk slowly towards the kitchen and fished a bottle of water out of the fridge, leaning heavily against the counter to drink it. He took a long draught before moving back to the couch and a still-stunned Emmett. “You tell anyone what happened here and I swear I will personally rip your balls off, have them barbecued and fed back to you intravenously. Do we understand each other?” Startled, Emmett nodded. “Good. Now why don’t you leave me alone? I think it’s obvious that we’re done here.”

“No Brian,” Emmett responded, finally having found his voice; Brain regarded him carefully. “I don’t think we’re done here. You surprised me. That’s why I didn’t respond right away, because I was _surprised_. I will stay if you want me to or I’ll go. But you’re not alone in this.”

“Don’t give me your pity,” Brian growled, turning his face quickly away when emotion washed over him.

Emmett watched him closely. “It wasn’t pity,” he replied. “It was understanding. I know we’ve been rough on you over… well, over what happened and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I don’t think any of us considered how you might be feeling.”

“Sorry’s bullshit,” the slender brunet sighed, sipping his water and looking woefully at the TV. “I just…” He looked up at Emmett, who was stunned by the amount of pain in those dark hazel eyes. “I just miss him, you know? I got used to him being around all the time. The loft feels so goddamn empty now.”

Sensing that he had been forgiven for the misunderstanding, Emmett lowered himself slowly onto the couch beside his friend. He reached for Brian’s hand but wasn’t surprised when it was jerked quickly out of his reach. He settled for playing nervously with his own bracelet and watching the beautiful man beside him as the movie continued on in their silence. Neither of them said a word more but it wasn’t awkward, it was just quiet; and the shadows didn’t seem to echo so much anymore with someone on the couch beside him.


	5. Shadows.

  
Author's notes: This is the last chapter I have completely written... But I promise that however long it takes to write the next one, this story won't stay unfinished. I swear!  


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[](http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c370/CowardlyShep/Brian%20and%20Justin/blendcontest3_pic412.jpg)

**5\. Shadows.**  
“I’m glad you’re finally back, idiot,” Daphne scolded, going to the door to open it while simultaneously berating Justin for forgetting his key yet again. “I just made popcor-“ She froze when the door revealed an impeccably dressed but vaguely _off_ Brian. “Mr. Kinney,” she stiffened on her best friend’s behalf, “To what do I owe this displeasure?”

He looked at her for a long moment, opened his mouth as if to speak and then shut it again. He didn’t utter a sound but something behind his eyes shifted slightly and he seemed to straighten himself.

“Justin forgot this,” he replied stoically, holding a scarf out to her. “I figured he might need it.”

Daphne’s brown eyes narrowed at him. “What are you doing with his scarf, Brian? What did you do?”

“What is it always my fucking fault?” he demanded in return, eyes flashing suddenly. “I’m going out of my way to bring it back because he’ll never think to buy another one and I know how cold he- it gets when it’s windy. I do something nice – and completely out of character, thank you very fucking much – and suddenly it’s the fucking Inquisition. Well you know what, Daph, just back the fuck off.”

He practically ripped the door open, but not before she saw dark, deep emotion flash across his face. He paused on the threshold and said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him, “Don’t tell him where you got that.”

Then he was gone and Daphne looked at her hands long enough to realise that this wasn’t the scarf Justin had misplaced over a week ago; this was a much warmer, much more expensive one.

She was still smiling when Justin finally did get back over an hour later.

“You missed the first half,” she called, not looking up from the movie she was watching, “But it’s just at the good part anyway.” He returned the greeting and she heard him taking off his coat and shoes. “And there’s something for you on the counter.” There was a pause and then he was suddenly sitting beside her in a flash of blond enthusiasm.

“Daph,” he grinned, scarf clutched tightly in his fingers, “how did you know I’ve been needing a warmer scarf? I would have settled for my old one back.”

“I didn’t get it for you, Jus, as much as I’d have liked to.” She smirked to herself, turning back to the movie but still watching him out of the corner of her eye. She saw him bring the scarf slowly up to his nose as realization dawned on him.

“Brian,” he breathed, fingering the rich folds dazedly as he looked down at it.

Daphne only beamed a little brighter and wasn’t as surprised as she could have been when a few days later she got a call from one of Brian’s friends. She knew he had to be obvious to those who knew him better than she, if she could see how deep his emotions ran. Although, she was still floored when it was Emmett who called her.

“Daph, honey?” he beamed, “I was hoping to talk to that cute little roommate of yours for a second. Is he there?”

“Sorry Em,” she returned, “He’s got class and then mentioned something about Babylon; I think he might have taken a change of clothes with him.”

“I’ll just have to get the big guy out then,” he mused, as if to himself.

“Meaning Brian, Emmett?”

Emmett froze, caught between wanting to help the hurting brunet and knowing that he’d never see his balls again if his intuition about Justin’s best friend was wrong. He swallowed slowly, “Would it change Justin’s plans if I said yes?”

Daphne smiled at his caution, having an idea about where it might have come from. “I’m on your side,” she told him and almost laughed at his obvious relief. “Justin’s been miserable lately.”

“Same for-“ he caught himself. “Well, you know,” he murmured, with a feeling that Daphne would understand what he didn’t dare say. “So, Babylon?” He was desperate both to change the subject and to shelter Brian from any rejection that he could. He had been startled by how deep the man’s emotions ran, as he’d come to discover over the past week. The deep insecurity was what had surprised him the most and Emmett couldn’t help but want to spare him whatever he could. Besides, he didn’t really think he would be able to do much to pull the man back if he really lost it, and that danger seemed so much more immanent when Justin was involved. All Brian’s emotions seemed that much more volatile when Justin was involved.

“Yeah, Em,” she reassured him, mind racing ahead of her tongue. “I think I’ll give him a call to make sure…”

“Well, I just got a beep on the other line,” Emmett lied quickly, “So I should go. But maybe I’ll give you a call in a few, just to see how your day is progressing. How’s that sound, honey?”

Daphne smiled; she’d always liked Emmett, always knew he was smarter than he seemed. “Sounds like a wonderful plan. I’ll talk to you later.” They hung up and she quickly dialled Justin’s cell, waiting impatiently for him to pick up.

“Hello?”

Something painfully tight poked into her chest and she bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming at the stranger answering the phone.

“Who’s this?” she demanded, glaring at the wall across from her like it could give answers.

“Lance,” was the short reply.

“Of course you are,” she muttered to herself, giving the wall a look Brian would have been proud of.

“Who’s _this_?”

“Daphne. Where’s Justin?”

“In the shower,” was the distracted reply and she vaguely heard another voice in the background. “Some woman,” Lance – Daphne smirked to herself, what sort of a name was _Lance_ , anyway? – was saying, as if one finger could cover the mouth piece.

There was a pause and then Justin’s voice in her ear, “Daph? What’s up?”

“Who was that, Justin?” she replied, trying to keep her anger in check while simultaneously forgetting Brian’s lost look and reminding herself that she was supposed to be on her best friend’s side in all of this shit. Even if he was being such a stupid fuck about it all. She caught herself - they were both being stupid. Guys are just clueless, she decided.

“Some guy,” Justin was mumbling and she got the distinct impression he was getting dressed.

“ _Lance_ ,” she heard in the background and snorted a laugh before she could stop herself. Justin’s smirk was evident in his voice when he spoke.

“So what’s wrong? I would’ve told him not to answer if I’d heard it…”

“I know,” she sighed, forgiving him for letting a trick answer his phone even if she was still angry and confused about tricking in general. “I just wanted to know if you were going to Babylon tonight after class.”

“Got a hot date you want me to be out of the apartment for?” he teased and she smiled; lately the only time his mood seemed to lift was after sex – not that she would know too intimately – but afterwards it was too often accompanied by such a low that she worried he might do something dangerous. He’d been around Brian just long enough that some of the man’s self-destructive streak seemed to have rubbed off on him.

“Maybe,” she grinned, pushing all worries forcefully aside. “And I thought you mentioned something about Babylon this morning but I hadn’t had my coffee yet so I wasn’t sure I was remembering right…”

“Oh, right.” He sounded distracted and she stayed silent to the sound of him walking for a moment before he continued. “Well, I don’t know anymore. I mean, since I ran into what’s his name…”

“Lance,” she supplied, biting back a laugh when his memory failed.

“Right. Him. Anyway, I don’t know anymore.”

“Well what if _I_ want to go?” she inquired, knowing that he would just hedge and falter until he’d talked himself out of it.

“You?” he squeaked in surprised and she finally laughed.

“Yes, me! Doofus. I like watching all the hot guys and what’s wrong with showing off my best friend? You know you’re hot, Justin. Sometimes I like seeing you flaunt it.”

“That’s twisted, Daph,” he snorted and then laughed. “Okay, I guess I could stand some dancing. But just for a while, ‘kay? I’ve got class early tomorrow.”

“Sure Jus,” she smiled. “So, see you back here after class?” He agreed and they hung up, him heading off to his class and Daphne to clean up the apartment and await Emmett’s call.

 

“Remind me again why I let you talk me into this?” Justin whined later that night as he pouted as his reflection and tried to decide what looked so _off_ about it all. He tried not to immediately think that what was lacking wasn’t something in himself but rather a certain deliciously brunet hanging off him, trying to make all the other boys jealous and succeeding for one reason or another. He tried really hard not to wonder what – or who - said brunet was doing in that instant, if he was happy or if he was miserable. As much as he wanted Brian to miss him and to want him back, Justin wasn’t sure he could handle the idea of the man being too upset, no matter how vindicated it might help him feel. It was just too anti-Brian. Although, his memories of the last time he’d seen him – so skittish and bare – called to some as-yet unexplored appendices to the Kinney handbook.

“Because you love me and want to make me happy,” Daphne replied to his complaint, without looking up from the shirts she was picking through.

He sent her a withering glare, then pursed his lips once more at himself, before telling her, “Wear the pink ‘boys are overrated’ one.”

She hesitated then giggled, pulled it out and pulled it on. Coming to stand beside her best friend at the full length mirror she looked them both up and down and grinned. “We look hot,” Daphne nodded sagely and Justin only laughed.

“So let’s go,” he retorted, holding out his arm to her.

When they finally arrived outside Babylon, the line was long and the night was cold, even beneath their coats. Daphne shivered on his arm but Justin had seen the bouncer waving at them and headed to the front of the line. He opened his mouth to ask the man why he was waving at them but instead found himself being ushered inside with a grunted, “Got told to let Taylor through.” Wide-eyed, Justin lead them both inside, startled by the free pass they had just received and confused into wondering who might have given them such permission to bypass the cold Pittsburgh night. Only Daphne, a few steps behind him, heard the doorman mutter, “Damn Kinney. Everybody freezes but his _ex_ -boy toy still gets a free ride.”

Inside the club, after getting rid of their coats at the coat-check and warming themselves with a quick drink at the bar, both Justin and Daphne turned towards the dance floor. The beat settled thickly into the blonde’s bones as he surveyed the crowd, looking for anyone who could capture his interest or his lust. When no one did, he grabbed his best friend’s hand and hauled her towards the dance floor, ready to while the night away without thinking about fucking, backrooms, or Brian. 

Sometime later, he was actually proud of himself for having ignored thoughts of the troublesome brunet for as long as he had. That is, until, said brunet sauntered into the overcrowded room and Justin felt his heart stop.

He looked more beautiful than Justin had let himself remember, more unattainable than even that first night. He was dressed in tight, black jeans and a dark crimson sleeveless top that was more of a second skin than clothing. His hair was tousled like he’d just fucked and Justin’s mouth went dry at the long, lean lines of him. He wanted nothing more than to be swept up in his arms, kissing him, running his fingers through that hair and then feeling that thick cock slipping skilfully into his long-unused ass.

He swallowed painfully and looked quickly back down at Daphne. She had followed his gaze but now avoided his eye and he frowned. Something nagged at the back of his skull, but like jello coming together, the thoughts were slow to form.

“You knew!” he suddenly cried, eyes wide as they stared down at her. “You knew he was going to be here, didn’t you?” Unaware that his voice had risen to carry over the crowd and uncaring that he had an audience, Justin continued, “That’s why you wanted to get me to come, because _he_ would be here.”

“Justin, I-“ she began but he shoved past her and out of the club. Across the dance floor a brunet with dark, flashing eyes left through the same exit in a flash of emotion, smoke and sound.

 

“Emmett, no.” He sighed, long fingers digging uselessly into his forehead in a vain attempt to stave off the pounding there. “I told you, I have to work on this new account.”

Emmett drew himself up to his full nelly-height, forgetting for a moment that he was merely on the phone with the man and not able to intimidate him in person. Not, he knew, that he could actually intimidate someone like Brian Kinney in person but still felt the need to try. He was, after all, a practicing fairy godmother and a romantic at heart. He wanted nothing more than to see Brian with someone – unless of course it was seeing himself partnered – and if said someone was Justin, mores the better.

“Look Brian, I know you think that holing yourself up in your loft like some little ‘fraidy-cat is making things better,” he admonished, trying to appeal to any of the old Brian that still existed, before having to rely on what he’d learned of the real one. “But trust me, it’s not. People are starting to wonder if you’ve actually fallen of the face of the earth, and that’s just your friends talking. You can imagine what the rest of Liberty is thinking of the disappearance of their favourite stud. I mean, you should hear the rumours circulating.”

Brian sighed again and fought a sudden shudder. There were times when he really did loathe the reputation he had constructed for himself. As a result everyone saw him as something much more untouchable and unreachable than themselves. No one even tried anymore to get to know him, just him, just Brian. No, all they wanted anymore was Brian Kinney, the Package. Sometimes Brian wasn’t even sure that the original man he had once been existed anymore, the man he had been when he was with- He drew in a sharp breath and tried almost desperately to shy his thoughts away from the blond. In his ear Emmett’s voice was still droning ceaselessly but it had softened when he started listening again.

“Brian,” Emmett was murmuring, almost ‘gently’ but Brian wasn’t about to go _there_ , so he settled for ‘quietly’. “I know why you’ve been staying in and I also know that it’s not some account that you’ve been working on. But I really do think that you should go somewhere aside from just out to work and then back home. Come to Babylon with me. I promise that we’ll only stay for a little while and then we’ll go back to the loft or to the diner or something, okay? Just to get you out for once…”

Hearing the genuine concern in the man’s voice, Brian was hard-pressed to say no. Although he wanted to. A part of him wanted to balk at the concern, to shove aside the emotions and pity that he was being force-fed. But another part of him was actually comforted by the fact that his new-found ally and confidante seemed to understand at least part of what he was going through, that he seemed to _care_ what he was going through. It was just hard being out, knowing that he might run into Justin – he still shuddered, even just to think his name – at anytime and be caught unaware. The last thing he wanted was to be blindsided by what he could no longer have and had never deserved.

“No diner,” he growled, knowing he’d never be able to handle Deb, not when his nerves were still this raw from the few breakdowns with Emmett that he’d allowed himself – although ‘allow’ might have been pushing it, seeing as how they’d just seemed to jump on him when he wasn’t paying attention. Brian himself was almost more floored than the flaming queen that he’d shown such deep, strong emotions in the other man’s presence, but what surprised him the most was that Emmett had stuck around, even when faced with Brian at his most broken.

“Right. Deb’s too colourful for late at night anyway,” the other man chirped and Brian almost smiled. “So, pick me up at ten?”

“Sounds suspiciously like a date,” Brian groused and Emmett laughed in his ear. Trying his best to sound asshole-ish and having a feeling that Emmett would see through it anyway, he replied instead, “Meet me in front at 10:30 and for god sakes don’t wear anything _pink_.” He hung up and sighed to himself, wondering how he got talked into these things by queens who planned _themed_ parties for a living.

Later, around exactly 10:30, Brian found himself parking his car outside Babylon. His lanky form, as it strolled around to the entrance and met Emmett, drew stares and no small amount of drooling - he was dressed in the perfect ‘fuck-me’ outfit, even if that was one of the furthest thoughts from his mind. The tight black jeans hugged his ass and package to perfection and with a sleeve of a crimson top underneath his $1500 Boss leather jacket, he was, of course, sex on two legs. It had been an untold effort to devise the perfect outfit but Brian knew that he had a reputation to uphold, just on the off chance he might run into Theodore or Mikey. The last thing he wanted to have to explain to them was that he was feeling somewhat sub-stud. Emmett already knew, which surprised Brian enough as it was, so he hadn’t dressed to impress that man; he dressed for all the others who knew his face – or cock – and decided they had an opinion about how it should conduct itself.

He shook his head to clear it, sighed, and guided Emmett by his brightly coloured elbow towards the front of the line.

“We don’t wait,” he informed the man, smiling crookedly at Emmett’s somewhat startled expression. “At least _I_ don’t, and since you’re with me…”

“I’m with you?” the colourful queen fanned himself teasingly. “I’m honoured, Brian!”

“Fuck off,” Brian growled, smiling ever so faintly when his friend paid him no mind.

They sauntered – well, sauntered and bounced, but close enough – into the club and immediately found themselves wrapped within the warm pulse of the beat. Emmett’s face split into a grin as he surveyed the sea of faces but he was also aware of sudden tension radiating off the brunet beside him. He looked up at him but wasn’t prepared for the almost frightened expression on his face.

“Bri-an?” he hesitated. He knew that drawing attention was exactly the last thing that he should do but he was concerned. Following Brian’s line of sight didn’t exactly comfort him – the man was staring without blinking at the very blond that Emmett had originally brought him to see. Now he wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea. “Brian,” he insisted, a little louder this time, and actually received a flicker of hazel in his direction as a response. “Should we go?”

Before either of them could think of anymore more to say, a flash of blond splashed past them in the crowd and Brian’s head snapped around like a puppet. He hesitated only a split second that Emmett could see, practically vibrating with indecision before he was off and following. The flamboyant queen bit off the urge to call him back and counted four deep breaths before going after him, worried in part that he’d be just in time to help scrape his emotions off the sidewalk. Another part of him hoped that he wouldn’t have to.

He stopped just within the shadow outside the door and felt his heart break a little as he strained to hear what Brian was whispering to the blond Emmett had tricked himself into thinking he should see again.

“Don’t go, Justin,” Brian was murmuring, unable to meet the startling blue eyes that stared at him with fierce determination and hurt. “I’ll- just don’t go if you want to dance, or… or trick.” His voice almost failed him but he swallowed thickly and straightened himself forcefully. “I was just leaving. There’s no one left, anyway.” The words were meant to be flippant but instead they were just a breath that passed by with barely a notice. He turned quickly and stalked towards his car, leaving a suddenly defeated, confused blond leaning against the rough brick.

“Talk to Daphne, honey,” Emmett told him in a low voice, one hand gentle on his smooth shoulder as he hurried after the tall, hurting brunet ahead of him. He hated that they couldn’t get past the pain to see that they still wanted each other, but there wasn’t much he could do about that except hang around and hope.


	6. Cracks.

  
Author's notes: Yeah, I just don't know about this chapter.  


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[](http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c370/CowardlyShep/Brian%20and%20Justin/brian81.jpg)

**6\. Cracks.**  
It was tensely silent as Brian drove aimlessly. Emmett found himself picking nervously at his shimmering pants and trying almost desperately to find something to say. He was startled out of his wordlessness when he suddenly realised that they were stopped outside his apartment.

“Brian?” he inquired, confused and a little surprised.

“Go home, Emmett,” Brian instructed, his voice low and even. Everything about him was cold and hollow.

“But Brian, I-“

He faltered. Just what was he going to say? What was there to say? He had messed up. He’d thought that Brian and Justin were ready to see each other again but they weren’t and Emmett could only blame himself. Something shifted behind his friend’s gaze and Emmett was startled by the hurt and betrayal he saw there. And then he knew; knew that he had done worse than nothing at all. By trying to fix things, he had broken them, had broken Brian’s tentative trust, and knowing that hurt more than he had expected it to.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, half waiting to hear Brian’s patented line of ‘sorry’s bullshit’. But he didn’t hear it, didn’t hear anything as the man shrugged absently.

They sat in silence for what felt like forever before Brian could force himself to growl, “Are you going to be getting out anytime soon? Some of us have to work in the morning.”

Emmett hesitated and then reached for the door handle. He risked a look back and then quickly turned away. “I’m so sorry Brian,” he sighed under his breath, “I was just trying to help.”

“Sometimes we’re helpless, sometimes we’re hopeless,” was Brian’s low reply. “It’s not up to you to help me or to fix me, Emmett.” He snorted a laugh. “Who says I’m broken, anyway? Plenty of people think I’m perfect this way.” His tongue wandered into his cheek but his friend was beyond the lies he told himself. Shaking his head and without meeting Emmett’s gaze, Brian reached over to shut the door.

“I don’t think you’re perfect, Brian,” Emmett admitted through the open window, getting a snort in response. “I think you’re human.” Brian stared at him for a very long moment and drove off without a word. The street seemed to echo with the sound of tires speeding down the slick pavement.

 

The loft was empty when he got there, the way he should have grown to expect it would be. He wanted to think about it being some other way, about him being some other way, but, like he’d told Emmett after that stupid-as-fuck ‘romantic comedy, the best movie of the year’ he’d brought over to watch: “Sometimes you can’t fix what’s broken. Sometimes things turn to shit and they just stay shit.”

“How incredibly fatalistic of you, Bri,” had been Emmett’s reply and he almost laughed because it really was the coward’s way out but he couldn’t seem to find anything else to hang on to. “Well it is! You’d just roll over and take it if things turned to shit? Like hell. You’d fight as hard as the rest of us for whatever you’d lost.”

Out of the corner of his gaze, Brian had rolled his eyes and chosen not to reply. They both knew that he wasn’t fighting. He had already lost.

The ringing of the phone interrupted his reverie and he stopped mid-strip to answer it.

“I said that I forgive you, Emmett. Now stop fucking calling me.”

“Brian?” He sucked in a quick breath to get as much air as possible before his chest imploded. He hadn’t realised how much it still affected him to hear the soft voice in his ear, to remember the body attached to it. Trying to stop himself from thinking, he focused on Justin’s words, “I… I wanted to talk to you.”

“You didn’t seem to before,” he grunted, scratching his bare stomach absently as he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“I was surprised. Daph was so adamant that I had to go to Babylon tonight and I was surprised when I figured out why.”

“You were pissed, you mean,” he replied and tried to keep the hurt from his voice. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, paused, and then sighed again. “I didn’t- I didn’t tell them to set this up, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What? No, Brian, I didn’t think that. I was just…”

“You didn’t want to see me.” The hurt got through this time, even though he tried so desperately to stop it. Damnit, he wasn’t going to get into this and he certainly wasn’t going to hurt while doing it. Every reaction was just that much more when Justin was involved; meaning that the ache was that much sharper and the knife went that much deeper.

“I didn’t,” the blond admitted and then flinched at Brian’s gasp.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” he sneered, rubbing at his face angrily. “I wasn’t feeling like I’d been sucker-punched yet. You saved me the trouble of getting shitfaced and falling down a flight of stairs.”

“Drama queen,” Justin muttered and in his surprise Brian almost laughed. “I might not have wanted to see you but that doesn’t mean I’m not glad I did. I… I miss you, Brian.”

“The fuck you do,” he snapped, frantically back peddling his emotions. He couldn’t do this, not now, not ever. “Don’t fuck with me, Sunshine. I may be broken but I’m not dead. You can’t just jerk me around, leaving when you want -“

“When I want? You prick. You fucking -“

“- and then coming back when things don’t turn out how you want them to. You may think that’s how things around here work but having no locks doesn’t mean the loft’s got a revolving door. You made your choice and now you better learn to live with it.”

“Now you listen here, Brian –“

Drawing a breath, Brian let it out slowly and waited for a gap in Justin’s rant before saying with deadly calm, “I tried, Justin. With you more than anyone, but I get it now. I get what my parents tried to teach me and what everyone’s been telling me for years. I get it. So stop fucking wasting your time. You’ve always known I wasn’t for you, we both did. We just didn’t want to realise it. But now that you’re gone, that you’re free of me, you have to suck it up and go find yourself a little boyfriend that you can take to meet mommy dearest and talk to about your classes, or fucking movies or whatever the fuck is running through your head. We don’t fit, Justin. Everyone else could see it; they told you I’m heartless. They knew I wasn’t worth you. I tried to prove them wrong but I can’t. I just… can’t.”

He disconnected the phone and watched it drop to the floor. It bounced slightly on the hardwood and the sound echoed around him like a gunshot. He sat watching it for a long moment before hauling himself to his feet and wandering to the bay windows, watching everything passing along without him.

 

He had worked himself into a beautifully dark mood by the time morning was rolling around again, some three hours later. Wrapped tightly in the duvet and watching light breathe over the city like flickers of life, he fought a morose sigh and burrowed deeper.

“Brian?” the answering machine squawked for what felt like the fourteenth time in a row. “Pick up, please. I… Brian, please. Just pick up or answer the door.” There was a long pause and then, “Um, call me when you get this.”

Justin’s voice washed around him and he shut his eyes briefly against it; even pitched in panic it was gentle on his psyche. He wanted to rage at the blond, to hate him or loathe him, to anything but love him. He didn’t want to depend on anyone else for his happiness and he didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s. All anyone had ever told him was that he would just fuck it up in the end anyway.

Watching the phone ring across the floor once again he contemplated getting up to shut the ringer off but in the end just rested his head against the cool of the window and let his eyes drift closed. He knew he’d wake up stiff as all hell in the morning but right then there was nothing more comfortable than the duvet, still smelling faintly of blond, around him and the icy cold of the window against his head like a reflection of his heart.

He drifted into a blissfully dreamless sleep only to be awakened by a cheerful chirping on his answering machine announcing that Emmett was letting himself up to the loft with the key Brian had given him the week prior. Groaning he thumped his head weakly against the glass but didn’t even attempt to extricate himself. He had a feeling he’d be too stiff for it anyway.

“Brian?”

“Here,” he grunted, pulling the duvet a little more over his head to block out the muffled emptiness of the loft.

“Honey, _what_ are you doing?” He peeked an eye out of the blue folds and saw Emmett in full queen mode, standing with his hand so his hips by the couch. “Are you still being a drama queen?” Brian grunted and found it vaguely amusing when his friend seemed to take it for an affirmative. “Well I know just the thing to get you back up to your normal level of studly-goodness.” He hesitated for effect and threw his hands out with a flourish, “Shopping!”

“No,” Brian snarled, rolling out of the duvet and staggering towards the kitchen, majorly jonesing for some coffee; he could never face Emmett without it.

“It’ll be just the thing to lift those dreary spirits,” his friend cajoled, trying to boister the man into a better mood by force alone, if he had to.

“No,” came the answering growl and Emmett was tempted to just give up and let Brian have the queen-out he seemed in the middle of. Taking a sip of harsh, black coffee, Brian looked his friend over and then glanced at the clock, fighting another groan as the caffeine slowly seeped into his system. “What are you doing here so fucking _early_ , Emmett?”

“What?” he replied, genuinely startled, “Oh, I mean, it’s not that early, Bri. I just…” He looked away from inscrutable hazel eyes as behind them a mind turned over lazily.

“You’re checking up on me,” came the accusation, less sharp than it could have been. “How sweet.” He stalked past the bright brunet and threw himself on the couch, dressed only in the sweats he had curled up in the night before.

“Look Brian,” Emmett sighed, settling gingerly beside him, “I’m sorry about last night. I was worried that maybe you’d… Well, I mean…”

“Just say it,” the man snapped, “Just say that you were worried I was a stupid prick and finally managed to off myself. Everyone thinks I should just do it anyway, get it over with.”

Emmett rolled his eyes; he was slowly getting used to Brian’s narcissistic-queen streak. “No we don’t, Brian. I’ll admit it crossed my mind but I didn’t really think that you’d let Justin get to you like that.”

“Who said he’d gotten to me at all?” was the standard response as Brian sipped his coffee once more, wishing that it were just a little stronger with more alcohol content than none at all.

“Did I say he had?” Emmett challenged, the steadiness of his gaze letting Brian know that he wasn’t remotely fooled. Sighing softly, the caffeine-dependent brunet nodded and peeled himself off the couch.

“Fine,” he sighed. “But just because I know you love me,” he smirked, surprising himself and leaning down to bestow a kiss on the top of his friend’s head as he passed. “And to shut you up.”

Emmett’s laugh followed him into the shower and he crooked a smile at his reflection. He was determined not to let Justin get to him. If shopping with a nelly bottom was what it took, then that’s what it was going to take. Shaking his head, he knew he was just fooling himself; one thought of the blond and he was practically an inconsolable mess. The only thing he wanted to do more than beg Justin to come back was yell at him for ever leaving, for ever taking Brian at face value and believing his bullshit. He’d thought the blond was too smart for all of that, at least he’d hoped he was.

The water washed down the small of his back, warming worn joints and loosening the tension that stiffened him. He lathered his hair but with his eyes shut, the thoughts could creep in.

He knew he wasn’t an easy man to love. Scratch that, he knew he was an easy man to hate. He had just always figured that it was better that they hate him right off than delude him into thinking they cared before tossing him to the ground. He wanted to be as hard-hearted as his parents before him, never caring what anyone said and never, absolutely _never_ showing how much they hurt you.

“Never let them see you cry, Sonny Boy,” was the only thing his father had said that he’d listened to. “Only weak faggots cry.”

Shutting the shower off angrily after letting it wash away his shame, he wondered why it was that tears looked the same as water when they felt like they were being torn from his chest. Heaving a sigh and towelling himself quickly, he was faintly disconcerted to hear the murmuring of voices in his loft.

“Emmett, you better not have thrown a party when I was in the shower,” he admonished, teasing as he drew jeans up on his slim hips and continued to dry his hair. Moving to the stairs down into the loft, he pulled the towel off his face and said, “If it’s an orgy I expect to be invi…”

Stopping dead, he wondered what it would feel like to shatter into a million pieces and how it could compare to this.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he sneered, trying desperately to keep anything out of his tone but sarcasm. Avoiding looking the blond in the face, Brian tried to saunter casually over to the kitchen, hoping to busy himself with something, anything to hide that his hands were trembling.

“I wanted to see how you were,” Justin replied gently, looking uncertainly at Emmett, who shrugged. “What I said last night… Brian, I- you have to know that I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh I do, do I?” he snapped, startled out of his stoic mask and unable to stop the hurt from flashing across his face. “Just why do I have to know that? Because you called afterwards to apologize for ripping my heart out? Well congratulations, Sunshine, you’ve apologized. You can go about your business with your conscience safely at rest knowing you’ve atoned for your sins. You’ve been forgiven, you can once more be a beacon of holiness, innocence and virtue for all, untainted by the stench of Brian Kinney’s sterling reputation, whore, slut of Liberty. I can just imagine what people _really_ think.”

He took a breath and looked away, chest heaving and was tighter than it had ever been with unsheddable tears.

“They probably think I brainwashed you,” he murmured, quietly as if to himself. Both Emmett and Justin watched spellbound, unable and maybe unwilling to break him from his thoughtful trance. “That I sucked you into a sticky web of deceit and debauchery, that I threw down an angel, corrupted an innocent boy who knew nothing but naivety. That I’m big bad Kinney. Unfeeling asshole who broke the virgin’s heart. Who never felt a thing when he was pushing him away, who never noticed when his own heart was ripped to shreds by his own words. Who never feels anything, makes life difficult for everyone around him, who should never have been born.”

His voice broke on the last word and one look between Emmett and Justin told volumes for their own fractured hearts.

“Brian-“ Justin swallowed, attempting to find his voice again. He took a hesitant step towards the man but jerked backwards when he flinched away, face still averted but shoulders shuddering. “Brian,” he tried again, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Too late,” the man whispered, cursing how weak he sounded but unable to find his strength. It seems he lost it a long time ago, he’d just been unwilling to let himself see how the blond had slipped in past his defences and laid him bare. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much.

“But I won’t again,” came the promise. “Please Brian, just let me try. We’ve hurt each other enough. Can’t we just… can’t we just try?”

“Why did you come, Justin?” Brian ground out, voice breathy and hoarse as his knuckles turned white on the counter. He could feel the blonde’s heat against his back, like pure emotion radiating into him. Swallowing, he tried to remain standing and strong. Breathing had rarely been more difficult.

“I called but you-“

“I mean that night,” he blurted, “when I called. Why did you come? I’ve been such an asshole to you.”

“You’ve been truthful, honest-“

Strangely, the hand Justin lay on his shoulder seemed to give him strength. He turned before allowing himself to think and chanced a glance at the pale, porcelain face before him. What he saw made his eyes burn once more; Justin’s face was so open, so honest like he could just reach in and pluck any answer that appealed to him.

“I’ve been rotten,” he sighed, the fight going out of him because he knew he couldn’t lie anymore. “I treated you like shit. I never gave you the respect that you deserved or loved you. Everyone saw-“

“Everyone doesn’t know shit!” Justin cried angrily, startling Brian into silence. “They didn’t see how you were always there for me, always helping me to be the best homosexual possible. Holding me when I needed it and just letting me be with you when that’s what you needed. We gave and took, no one else needed to see that. They should have just seen how much we cared for each other. But they didn’t want to see. They couldn’t see how _real_ you were to me, with me.”

He let out a soft breath and stepped a little closer, feeling the brunet’s resolve and hardened pain waver slightly.

“Ethan…” he sighed and tried not to flinch when Brian did, “He was just a momentary weakness, a glimpse into what I thought I wanted. He was easy to be with and he was… he was… people were okay with the two of us.”

Pulling further into himself, Brian took a step back like distance could deaden the pain. “Then why the fuck are you _here_?”

“Because he wasn’t what I wanted, Brian.” Justin paused to make sure the words had sunk in. “You are.” Meeting his hazel gaze evenly he continued, “You may have your asshole moments, you may have your drama queen moments but the fact remains that for all the pain we’ve been through, all the trouble and the fights, for everything, I still feel more alive with you, more wanted and more like I can do anything than I ever have before. I love you, Brian, and I never stopped.”

Brian was the first to break eye contact, looking away and being surprised to find that the loft was Emmett-free. He shook himself faintly and took a breath to fortify himself.

“I thought that Ethan-“ he tried not to spit the name like a bad taste but wasn’t sure how well he’d done “-could give you what I couldn’t. It killed me to push you away, to see the hurt on your face,” he reached without thinking to gently cup the pale cheek, his thumb running across the soft skin he had so missed. “I never want to hurt you but I don’t know if I can… if I can be what you want. I don’t think I can be, Justin. You deserve more than me.”

Justin never hesitated as he shook his head, stepping forward to rest his own hands on Brian’s faintly trembling body. “I don’t, Brian. You’re a better man than I could hope to be and I love you. I don’t care what you think you deserve because I think we’ve already proven that you know shit about what you’re worth.”

“I-“

An open mouth to voice his objections was too tempting for the blond to pass up, not when his brunet was so close and so warm and real. “Shhh,” was what he murmured, a split instant before capturing Brian’s lips in his.

“I’m scared,” Brian mumbled against his lips and Justin stiffened instantly, pulling away to stare at the older man leaning against him. Hazel searched blue and then slammed quickly shut. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, what I I’m supposed to do. I- I want to just say everything’s okay, that we’re okay and that things can just go back but… I don’t know if they can.” His eyes fluttered open to meet clear sapphire. “It hurt, Justin. I know it’s my fault, it’s probably all my fault but the fact remains that it _hurt_. I don’t know if I’m ready to… to let you back in. You have so much power over me that… it scares me, Sunshine,” he admitted, averting his gaze quickly. “I don’t know if I’m okay with that.”

“That’s part of love, isn’t it?” Justin teased gently, unease coiling like nausea in the pit of his stomach.

“Love…” he cleared his throat quickly, unable to look at his blond. “Love hasn’t exactly been good to me,” he murmured, huffing out a breath and wondering if he were truly crazy. “I think… I think I need time.”

“But I-“

“I’m sorry,” he sighed mournfully, sounding like he truly was. “I just…”

“No, I… I understand, Brian. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Justin stepped quickly out of his arms and the older brunet tried to ignore the sudden ache in his chest at the distance. “Could, could you do one thing for me, though?” Blinking at him through heavy lids, Brian nodded imperceptibly. “Could you call me when you think you’re ready? I really do love you and I’d like to give us a try.”

Rolling his lips into his mouth and breathing heavily through his nose, Brian nodded once again and showed Justin to the door without another word. They kissed chastely on the threshold, both lingering like separation was being forced upon them. When they finally stepped apart, their eyes were wet but they knew that this was something they had to try. If being apart was what it would take to get them back together then that’s what they would try. Justin just hoped that time, while healing their wounds, wouldn’t blur the edges between trick and lover beyond salvation.


	7. Stories.

  
Author's notes: Because I'm happy I got this finished... Thanks so much, everyone, for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!  


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**7\. Stories.**  
The wind blew around him angrily, icy edges digging into tender flesh as the night air searched for bare skin to prey on. The door swung shut behind him and he took a deep breath of the warmed air, letting it sink in and unthaw the bits of him that were frozen. Signally to the bartender and taking a long draught of the proffered drink, he settled at a booth with one eye heavily on the door and the other on the clock.

He was just wavering between boredom and frustration when the conversation near him at the bar caught his attention. He sat straighter to listen and felt a slow smile stretch across his face when he heard.

“I’m not kidding,” the gossiping queen crowed to his rapt audience. “It was the most historic reunification since Germany. They had been apart for a little over three months. One where the beautiful blond was with his fiddler and two of self-imposed separation, enforced, according to rumour, by the seemingly heartless King Kinney. Seems like he was wary of his stunning little twink because of how the two had parted ways previously.”

“Because of the Rage-stunt?” an adoring fan piped up, slack-jawed with surprise and suspense. He leant closer to the fairy-queen to soak up the most gossip that he could. Just out of their field of view, their eavesdropper snorted a laugh and sipped his drink quietly, waiting for the rest of the fairy tale to play out.

“That very same,” came the smooth reply. “Seems that the sultry brunet pushed his blond away because he felt like he couldn’t give him what he wanted, what he deserved.”

“He’s the hottest stud and the best lay in Pittsburgh. What more could that ungrateful twink want?”

Alcohol laced anger surged sluggishly through spying veins but at that instant Woody’s door opened once more and in flashed the very man he so wanted to see. Smiling and signalling to the bartender for another round, he settled in to keep listening in to his own story unfolding.

“-Romance,” the old queen was continuing just as his man slid in beside him. Laying a finger across lips questioning his silence, he motioned for quiet and cocked his head behind them where the narrative could still be heard. They shared a gentle smile and a quick kiss, and sat back to pay attention.

“Justin wanted a partner who appreciated him and wasn’t afraid to show it,” the storyteller said.

“Brian has the biggest balls this side of the-“

“But when it comes to love, sweetie,” the man interrupted, “Sometimes there are things more important than the size of one’s cahones.”

His audience muttered faintly but settled down when he cleared his throat.

“Now, where was I? Oh yes. So Justin left and our tortured hero was left to his own macabre devices, only this time instead of finding solace in the many anonymous asses that his stud-dom at Babylon has to offer, he chose to confide in a friend. Story goes that it was the fabulously flamboyant Emmett Honeycutt that captured our stud’s attention and his friendship.”

The two eavesdroppers fought the muted laughter that shook them at the thought of Emmett ‘capturing our stud’s attention’, before quieting themselves once more.

“But King Kinney was hurting more than anyone – with the possible exception of fair Honeycutt – knew and when the chance came to get his Justin back, he balked at the thought of once more giving the man that much power over him. See, boys and boys, Lord Kinney was afraid of a little blond boy and how he felt about him. He’d been heartless for so many years that he was starting to believe when people told him he was an asshole, that he would just fuck up whatever he tried. So he needed time. Time away from his blond, away from any relationship or something only vaguely resembling one.”

He paused for effect, taking a long drink from his cosmopolitan and smirking when they shifted restlessly.

“But then, three months after Babylon had first found itself bereft of its royalty, they were suddenly back and they were together. Ohhh, boys, things were sizzling that night. So many little boys almost came right there on the dance floor just from watching them, they were so electric. I mean, they always were hot together, totally combustible. And the king and his king had truly returned. Only this time… this time there was something else. Gone was the king of Liberty and his twink and in their place was true royalty, equal to the nines and equally hot. They had eyes and lips only for each other, dancing so close you could practically taste their mixed sweat in the air.”

He stopped momentarily to fan himself and his audience panted almost breathlessly, waiting on the edge of panic for him to continue.

“Oh sure,” he carried on, much to the amusement of his hidden audience. “They tricked every now and again, but it was more casual than anything, more someone they agreed could work for the both of them. It was like, dare I say it, they were _partners_.”

His listeners swooned and he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Many lust-ridden wet dreams were shattered that night, boys, I’m sorry to say,” the queen smiled. “Because it soon became clear that there wouldn’t be much more than the odd trick, few and far between, for the two hot Kings of Babylon and Liberty. It seems like they had finally chosen partners and, what’s more, had found each other in the process. I’m not saying they were perfect – who is – but they were happy and as much as anyone wanted to fuck one, the other or both, people became used to seeing them only with each other.”

He took another sip and beamed at his audience, enjoying the attention and glancing surreptitiously at the booth to his left that he knew held the eavesdropping couple.

“To this day, no one really knows what got them back together, what King Kinney had to decide for himself before he was willing to let Stud Taylor back into his life but it’s safe to say that Babylon has never been the same since its royal couple returned, rejoined and better than ever. Life might have gone back to some semblance of the normal we all know and love here on Liberty Avenue, but it was never boring with those two around. Their personalities were too evenly matched and they were too stubborn and pigheaded at times to make it easy on each other. Still, I think I can safely say that the Stud and his King have settled into whatever they have quiet comfortably. Life’s good to the royalty of Pittsburgh, even if it took them entirely too long to get there.”

He smirked, sipped and winked at his audience, basking in the afterglow of a good tale and answering the few scattered questions his listeners still had for him. His eavesdroppers smiled to each other and leant together for a lustful kiss.

“Do you think he’ll ever get tired of telling that same old story?” the younger of the two whispered to his lover as he nuzzled his cheek gently, smiling at the familiar, comforting weight of his partner’s arm settling across his shoulders.

“And lose the limelight and respect he so richly deserves for getting King Kinney and his twinkie Stud back together? Never,” was the tongue in cheek response.

“It was six years ago!” he laughed, tilting his head back when his ear was nibbled delicately. “Mmmm, you’d have thought people would have stopped caring by now.”

“Royalty never goes out of style,” was the only answer he got, followed by a sharp nip on his neck that sent his blood racing.

“Home?” he gasped, jumping at the hand that was suddenly burning the skin on his thigh with its intensity.

“Home,” came the strangled reply and he jumped from his seat with an airy laugh when long arms tangled around him. They kissed once more, deeply, before pushing the door open and letting it swing shut behind them.

Silence fell over the room in their absence and at the bar Emmett Honeycutt, six years older but still as fabulous as ever, smiled at his adoring fans: an entirely new generation of Liberty’s finest fags, ready to hear stories of love and lust triumphing over all, especially in the face of such adversity as Brian and Justin had overcome. He felt it was only his duty to tell the tale and if those two chose to sit through his retelling every so often in order to remember what they had been through, then who was he to suggest otherwise? He always just smiled when they left and turned to his shocked audience, assuring them that, Yes, they had just seen the legendary Kings of Liberty in the flesh. And such fine flesh it remained.

[](http://photobucket.com)


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